


Bed of Thorns

by shotgunsinlace



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Anal Sex, Clothed Sex, Desk Sex, Hand Jobs, Implied/Referenced Incest, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-24
Updated: 2019-05-24
Packaged: 2020-03-13 09:54:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18938566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shotgunsinlace/pseuds/shotgunsinlace
Summary: It was not V's intention to lie about his origins despite his vagueness on the subject, but Dante proved sharper than any weapon in his extensive arsenal. As luck would have it, they both have time to address the situation before the eventual confrontation with the Demon King.





	Bed of Thorns

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't written fic for this fandom in almost 14 years, but DMC5 kicked my entire ass and now I'm back on my spardacest shit. Incredible.
> 
> This whole thing is unbeta'd so head's up.

“Curious, isn’t?” V says while pushing back the hair from his face. He winces when Dante’s meaty hand clasps behind his knee and pushes it up and outward, granting him more space to move.

Dante exhales sharply through his nose, sounding rather like a bitter laugh. “What? Me fucking my pseudo-brother? Not the weirdest thing I’ve done.”

V cants his hips in order to alleviate the discomfort of the desk’s edge digging into his back but fails to do so, and instead just lays there, waiting for Dante to do as he pleases.

The story of how he got here is rather baffling, to say the least. Despite V’s best attempt at relegating just enough information to get Dante and his crew interested in the hunt for Urizen, Dante proved every bit as clever and intuitive as V remembered him to be. He caught the hidden truth behind V’s words within moments, and after a few beats of heavy silence, Dante demanded to know the entire truth regarding V’s identity.

At no point did he intend to outright lie, but he figured keeping vital information close in the case of needed motivation would be the best way to approach the situation. A tactical choice and nothing more. But, as per usual, Dante behaved as predictably as ever.

Following a flurry of questions, most of which went partially answered, Dante had closed the space between them with a look of thinly veiled consternation. His hand had roughly come to rest at the center of V’s chest in the form of another question, this one wordless yet loud in the otherwise quiet hum of the agency. _Are you really him?_ it said. V’s tattooed hand over Dante’s was enough of an answer.

And now they are here.

V watches the creaking ceiling fan go round and round, dust fluttering down to the floor cluttered with miscellaneous things, his sleeveless coat included. He makes an effort to keep his eyes open despite the calloused touch of Dante’s hand trying its hardest to lull them closed. In spite of the compromising position and the overwhelming sensation of warmth moving along his skin, it hardly feels sexual. Perhaps, given time, it could feel like unbridled lust or the need to fill a void left behind by human longing.

This most definitely feels like a void in need of filling.

“Vergil cast his humanity away. In part, it is what he’s always wanted. The ability to forsake that which, to him, made him weak.” V pauses at the sound of a jangling belt buckle followed by the drag of a zipper. “All the while you desperately clung to what made you human.”

Dante mercifully pushes him further up on the desk in order to comfortably rest his own hips against it. The position presses his groin snug against V’s still clothed bottom half. “If this is your idea of pillow talk, buddy, it sucks.”

“There is a point to this.”

“Then out with it before you completely kill the mood.”

“Aren’t you going to remove my pants?”

“Nope.”

“Then, may I?”

“Nope.”

V sighs but doesn’t argue. Instead, he focuses on the way Dante pushes his red coat out of the way but undresses no further, merely pulling out his cock and giving it a few strokes before resting it over V’s clothed groin.

“You were saying,” Dante prompts, resting V’s legs on his shoulders. He briefly thinks about it, then does quick work of removing V’s sandals, pressing a featherlight kiss to the knob of his left ankle.

Heat trails from his ankle and up his leg to settle in his own lap, making his cock swell with sudden arousal at the fleeting touch of lips against skin. Perhaps it has something to do with this newly born body, with the virginal state of each nerve ending at full attention. “ _Oh._ ” His breathing soon becomes lodged midway out his throat. 

Dante half smirks at him, placing his hands on the outside of V’s thighs and pressing them together to create friction. Dante thrusts, ever so slowly, and revels in the sensation.

“You know,” Dante says, squeezing a little tighter around his cock and pausing for a satisfied sigh, “never really been into skinny guys. But damn, V, swaggering in here like you’re hot shit. Kind of a turn on, not gonna lie.”

V thumps his foot against the side of Dante’s head. “If by swagger you’re referring to my near inability to walk without the assistance of my cane, then I will begrudgingly accept the compliment.”

“And you’re mouthy.”

“Some things don’t quite change.”

Dante’s smirk momentarily falters at that, as if remembering who it is that’s currently splayed underneath him. He moves again, pursuing pleasure in hopes of eclipsing the bitterness V’s aware he has stirred up within.

Clenching his thighs around Dante, V falls silent and simply allows him to chase release. It must chafe given that the fabric of his pants is everything but soft, but the man above him seems to not mind as his pace quickens enough to knock V farther up the desk. His disheveled, silvery white hair covers most of his face, but V can still see the way he bites his lower lip; more as an attempt at seduction rather than a need to keep quiet.

This wisp of a memory stirs in the depths of V’s mind, one from so long ago he marvels at the clarity of it. Brought on by the feel of Dante’s hands on him, much softer now than they were back then, V remembers the violence behind this very act. Young and angry and desperate, all nails and teeth and enough blood to flood the Underworld.

Maybe time has made Dante softer, his age dulling the once brittle edges Vergil so viciously hacked at. Or perhaps Dante senses that V’s body is far more human than his own, more fragile. Either way, the hunger now sparked in his gut is enough to embolden V to push, to make Dante take.

“Hey,” Dante snaps when V drops a leg, but hums in understanding when the same leg wraps around his waist instead and urges him closer. “If you want something, then say it.”

V sits up on the desk, ignoring Dante’s pout, and reaches for his face.

The stubble is rough on his hands, a stark contrast to the baby-faced softness from so long ago. Pushing back his hair, V admires the laughter-lines on Dante’s face, the icy blue of his eyes, and the slight crookedness of his nose. It’s odd to think that they’re doing this again, V holding him close enough to inspect every blemish and imperfection – while Dante stares into the face of a stranger.

“ _Love seeketh not itself to please, nor for itself hath any care, but for another gives its ease, and builds a Heaven in Hell’s despair._ ”

Dante squints at him, mouth pressed into a thin line. “I don’t think love has anything to do with this.”

“Does it not?” V lets a hand wander down Dante’s neck and presses his thumb against the hollow of his throat. “A long time ago, I recall you muttering how much you loved your brother.”

“This is different.”

“He is I, and I am he. Although I may carry a different face, I can assure you, all that lies within is every bit the same.”

“Considering you haven’t tried stabbing me yet, I find that hard to believe.”

“Foolish, Dante.”

Dante clicks his tongue. “There we go.” He takes hold of V’s hips and pulls him closer to the edge of his desk, legs immediately going around him in a vice grip. “I was having a great time rubbing my dick on you and you had to go and interrupt me. Whatever shall we do about that?”

“I was beginning to grow bored,” V says, reaching for Dante’s hand and placing it just above the top of his corset. The skin on skin contact makes him shiver with want, body singing for any form of gratification. “It is only fair for you to please me in turn.”

“No one said I was fair,” but despite the retort, Dante’s hand lowers enough to snag his fingers on the lacing of V’s corset and tug at them. “But, you do look like you could use a good fuck.”

V’s breath hitches at the words, or maybe it’s the touch. Regardless, V wants him. He tells him as much by reaching down and gingerly wrapping his hand around Dante’s stiff cock. V gives it a good tug, keeping it close to his own crotch all the while, intently watching the minute changes in Dante’s features. “Do deliver.”

The leather of Dante’s fingerless glove feels sinfully soft against the column of V’s neck as he guides his head to the side to further expose it. V watches him until he’s close enough to blur, and softly sucks in a breath when dry lips make contact against his skin. He lets both his hands drop to the desk, momentarily lost, as Dante drags the sharp ends of his teeth along the points where dark markings meet milky skin.

Dante pulls away only to hook a finger around V’s necklace, the black cord going taut and his knuckle digging deep enough into the soft bit of V’s throat to make swallowing difficult. He uses it to pull V towards him, hold him close enough to brush their mouths together in a delectable tease before pulling away. “You’re gonna have to earn that.”

V runs his fingers through Dante’s shaggy hair, gripping it at the nape and using it to pull him closer.

Chest to chest, mouths close enough to touch but not quite, V wets his lips. Dante involuntarily follows suit, his eyes narrowing with a heat capable of melting the cold pit that has rested within V’s gut since the moment of his birth.

They remain like this, playing a game of tension and desire that goes farther than the here and now, both silent yet waiting for the other to give. Of course, V knows, Dante won’t be the one to break. He’s far too arrogant to accept defeat in any stage, and this is no different.

Seeing no other way, V moves his hands over his shoulders, down his pecks, and inside his coat to properly feel Dante over the soft cotton of his shirt. He continues downward until he finds the hem of it, then pushes a hand underneath to feel the rippling muscles of his abdomen. His other hand returns to the still hard cock resting on his thigh, ignored and begging.

Dante sounds clearly pleased as he hums at the contact, his eyebrows quirking and mouth tugging into a crooked smile that promises nothing but devilish delight. He reaches down to cover V’s hand with his own, instructing him to grip a little harder and squeeze a little more at the root, before tugging him all the way to the tip. V obeys and is rewarded by a low grown that reverberates deep from Dante’s chest.

Letting go of V’s necklace, Dante pulls him entirely off the desk and on to wobbly legs, making quick work of his pants and discarding them into the same pile as his coat. V enthusiastically aids in the process, but his hands are smacked away when he reaches for the lacing of his corset.

“That stays on,” Dante says, his voice a pitch lower. He leans back just enough to admire V’s mostly nude body, whose skin erupts in goosebumps when not even the humid heat in the agency is enough to keep him warm.

“Am I to stand here exposed while you don all of your clothing?”

Dante reaches down to unceremoniously pump V’s cock, and the sensation overload is enough to shut him up. “Thought so.”

“D-Dante!”

“There we go, pretty boy,” Dante says, quickening the pace until V is curling over him, nails digging into Dante’s shoulder as his moans lodge in his throat. “You know who’s name you gotta call if you want it good.”

V’s body tenses as he tries his hardest not to lose it so quickly, but alas, he is merely human. He does not boast the same inhuman stamina Dante does due to his demonic lineage. Instead, all he can do is huff and puff and resign himself to the reality that he will come more than once tonight, if Dante has anything to say about it.

He’s thrown for a loop when Dante’s hand abandons him and instead hoists him up with ease. V wraps his legs around Dante to keep himself from slipping, but Dante’s strength is enough to keep them tethered. Their cocks push together, and V wastes no time in taking them both within his hand, creating a tight tunnel with his fist for them to fuck.

Dante quickly swats it away in order to spit on his own palm and take over, jacking them off at a quick enough pace to have V throwing his head back in utter ecstasy.

He ought to feel embarrassed or ashamed by the noises he’s making, by how effortlessly Dante is pulling him apart at the seams, but it can’t be helped. This body is too new, too unaccustomed to the touch of another person, let alone someone like Dante who takes what he wants as roughly as he wants. And it’s that roughness that’s making V deliriously horny.

His body strains like the strings of a violin, ready to snap at a moment’s notice if Dante continues this sweet torment for much longer. And he does. His wrist twists and flexes, wielding them both with the same dexterity he wields a sword.

“Damn,” V manages to stutter as quietly as possible before the room goes deathly silent, Dante’s own heavy breathing quieting just to hear every little mewl and wanton whine V involuntarily makes. His body trembles from exertion, lungs struggling to keep up, but Dante gives him no quarter.

Dante, who watches him with keen eyes and slightly parted lips that betray his hunger. He’s waiting for something, it seems, but V is too far gone to give it much thought. Instead, he mindlessly begs for more.

“Sorry. Didn’t quite catch that,” Dante teases, slowing his hand just enough to roughly squeeze the slick tips of both their cocks. “Tell me what it is you want, V.”

V’s hands cling to Dante’s red coat as fire builds inside of him, becoming more acute by the second, threatening to consume, to destroy, to unravel this feeble body cast away from his true self. V wants so much more than this, more than superficial stroking, less of the schism between them.

If he could crawl inside of Dante and sleep within the cavity of his chest, he would; willing to forsake decades of fruitless searching. The line between this nearly hollow human husk and the demonic self that so ravenously craves power begins to blur beyond recognition, and V can feel the draw of dark desires and blinding light that so intimately lead to Dante.

“V—”

“Fuck me.”

Within an instant he’s being shoved back down onto the desk, his head banging the wooden surface, but V could care less. He’s blankly staring up at the fan again as he vaguely registers the sound of a drawer opening, followed by rustling, and the click of a bottle cap snapping open. He smiles at nothing in particular and takes no heed of the brief absence of touch.

When Dante re-enters his line of his sight, V worries such an old desk won’t hold their shared weight on it, but Dante doesn’t seem bothered. He chucks the tails of his coat to the side before reaching into his back pocket and producing what V assume is the bottle he has just fetched. Dante pours a liberal amount of lubricant onto his fingers and, grinning down at V, walks his fingers to nestle them just below the heavy cock dribbling for attention.

V sucks in a shaky breath as Dante draws teasing circles around his hole, applying enough pressure to be felt but not enough to breach. It’s maddening, intoxicating, and exhilarating all at once. The lubricant is uncomfortably cold against his hot skin, but that doesn’t keep him from wriggling underneath Dante in a desperate plea for more.

The finger does eventually push its way inside and V parts his legs, inviting Dante to come closer, to put more inside of him, to fill him up to the brim and make him feel as human as physically possible.

Dante concedes, wasting little time on preparation. Maybe he’s forgotten himself, or maybe he hasn’t and simply doesn’t care, but not three fingers in and he’s already withdrawing, coating his own cock with single-minded intent. V doesn’t quite mind given the constant state of chronic pain since his separation. He figures this pain, at least, will lead to pleasure.

And it does.

The splitting burn is maddening.

Voice hoarse, all V can do is try to move as little as possible until Dante has sheathed himself wholly inside of him. Even then, when the burn has eased but the unspeakable pressure has not, V opens his eyes to have tears spill from their corners.

Mercifully, Dante remains still. Kneeling on the desk with V’s legs half draped along his sides, he takes a moment to just touch.

More inquisitive than seductive, Dante’s rough palms slip up V’s belly, across his leather corset, and pauses briefly to twist an erect nipple. V gasps, and with a mischievous little grin, Dante leans down to suck it into his mouth.

V twists his fingers into Dante’s hair and is once more surprised at how soft it is despite its unkempt state. Silvery strands slip free when Dante shifts his attention from one nipple to the other, muttering something to himself that V doesn’t quite catch. This one he laps at, much like a parched dog on a hot summer’s day, before blowing against it and causing V to shiver.

“Guess I’ll get my recommended dose of Vitamin D from somewhere else,” Dante says, clearly amused by his own wittiness. V doesn’t entirely get what he means but he lets it slide when Dante returns a hand to V’s cock.

V pushes at the coat Dante wears before he once again loses himself to the delectable sensations wracking his body. “Better movement,” he offers as a short explanation.

Dante considers it only briefly before agreeing, taking hold of the lapels and, in a playfully slow motion, removes the red duster. His right hand returns to its previous spot, quickly and efficiently jerking V off, while the other grips his bony hip.

He _moves_.

Dante is a man of sizeable girth, as thick as he is long, and V had thought himself incapable of accommodating him so intimately. The initial penetration was one thing, but nothing had prepared him for the feeling of Dante moving inside of him. First slow and drawn out, a wave-like movement that was almost lulling, leading V into a false sense of comfort.

But it didn’t take long to get Dante pulling out until only the mushroom-tip of his cock remained, tautly pulling at the edges of V’s body in a dance of will-he-won’t-he. When he does ram himself back in with every ounce of inhuman strength within, all V can do is allow himself to breathe as his body arches clear off the desk, head thrown back with a silent whimper dying on his tongue.

Dante’s eyes flutter shut as he moves with intent. He looks alarmingly handsome while chasing his own release, fucking into V like a man starved for it. Dante moves with the same contained ferocity as he does in the field, barely contained beneath his human skin. He sways to a rhythm that only exists in his head, pure and demonic, and V can’t help but think that Dante is the kind of man poetry is so often written of.

“You’re so fucking tight,” Dante says, but the words are a mere rumble deep in his chest. “Gonna let me come inside you, right?”

V scrambles for something – anything – he can grab. The burning may have subsided but everything else remains. The sight of Dante taking him with abandon has got his blood pumping, filling him with a euphoria unlike anything he’s every experienced. Dante could have asked V for the world at the very moment, and V would have asked how he wanted it.

Mustering what little strength he could, V hoists himself up, clasping his hands around Dante’s neck and demanding no less than his full attention. Drowned in a sea of hitched breaths, given that the fucking did not cease, V bites the corner of Dante’s jaw hard enough to leave a mark.

Dante hisses and retaliates, digging his own teeth into the soft tissue at the front of V’s throat. V shoves him until he’s sitting on his ass, one hand behind himself for support as V readily sits on his lap, miraculously keeping himself stuffed with Dante’s cock.

“Defile me,” V demands.

Dante’s arms slither around V and up his back, hands grasping his shoulders with the intention of obeying. He uses his grip to slam V down onto him, filling him to the brim and ripping out a keening sound that echoes across the cluttered agency. Dante grunts, does it again and again until V gains either enough strength or confidence to take over, riding him with gusto.

His hips dance freely despite the lewd sound of the leather pants now slick with sweat and lube, the barely audible sounds Dante makes urging him to continue, making blissful and maddening pressure start to build and twist at the base of his spine.

Leaning back, V places his hands on Dante’s thighs for better leverage. This allows him to set his own pace, a leisurely rhythm that is accentuated only by each rough thrust that leave him feeling raw.

Dante grabs V by the hips and takes over, the pace apparently too slow for him. Another hand wraps around V’s cock, working the shaft brutally fast.

It isn’t long until finally, _finally_ , V is sobbing around his release as his back arches painfully with the force of it. His vision whitens, ears ringing as Dante continues milking him until the very last drop.

V strains to keep himself in place, limbs too soft and spent to move, but Dante carefully rearranges him. He’s pulled forward, held up by hands that are so often used to cutting down demons, here moving with soft attention.

“ _In the howling storm –_ ah! _– h-has found out thy bed,_ ” V recites, breathless, between sharp moans inspired by Dante’s nearly feral fucking. “ _Of… of crimson joy… and his, his_ —Dante!”

Dante snaps his hips once, twice, three times before he comes, hard enough to nearly buck V off him. But he doesn’t. He holds V in a vice grip as his breathing comes in aborted rasps, biting back a groan that eventually escapes him when V touches his flushed cheek. Dante stays perfectly still as he relishes in the sensation of V’s muscles milking him in turn.

“ _Of crimson joy, and his dark secret love, does thy life destroy._ ”

Dante exhales sharply, giving V’s ass a good slap. “How are you still coherent?”

V merely shakes his head with a coy smile. “Was it to your liking?”

“Given that it’s been a while, yeah.” Dante pauses when V rests their foreheads together, his slender frame trembling from the exertion. His fingers feel cold even through the fabric of his now damp shirt. “You can lay down on the couch if you need to.”

“I’ll be fine. I just need a moment.”

Dante makes a sound of agreement as he stays still, allowing V a brief respite.

The creaking of the fan returns once more, this time accompanied by the evening out cadence of Dante’s breathing and the muted hum of the neon sign hanging above the door. Devil May Cry is perfectly frozen at this moment in time, granting V a surreal anchor to his current reality.

“The feelings you carry within, you deem them demonic. Yet, it is your human side that allows you to experience them.”

“I’ve no idea what ‘demonic feelings’ you’re talking about.”

A dry laugh escapes V. “Vergil considers ‘our’ feelings for you to be his human nature taking control. A weakness detrimental to his search for power. You’re his anti-thesis, even in that. You’ve bound yourself to a human’s crooked perception of morality.”

Dante’s eyes are a steely blue that pin V to the spot with the same strength it would were he to use his hands. His lips pressing into a thin line and the furrow of his brow betray more than words, or lack of.

With an exasperated huff, Dante lets himself fall back onto the desk, arms spread as he glares, rather comically, at the ceiling. “What in the hell is Vergil planning?”

“That, I cannot say.” Placing a hand on Dante’s chest, V leans in enough to ghost their lips together. The shift forces Dante out of his body, and they both sigh at the satisfyingly wet plop. “However, I rest at ease. You nearly know him better than he knows himself.”

It’s Dante who closes the small distance between them, pushing their mouths together in a chaste seal before pulling away again, but V gives chase. The kiss is tentative despite its fervor, V wasting little time in breaching Dante’s defenses and brushing his tongue with his.

It ignites more of the same long buried memories, clenching a fist around V’s weak heart.

“Humanity suits you,” Dante says, reaching up to tuck strands of long black hair behind his ear.

V merely shuts his eyes, his body aching in more ways than one. “If only it were sustainable, brother dearest.”

**Author's Note:**

> catch me on **[TWITTER](https://twitter.com/shotgunsinlace)** or **[TUMBLR](https://spardaliciously.tumblr.com/)**!


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